


Fightin' Daphne AU

by NiteWrighter



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiteWrighter/pseuds/NiteWrighter
Summary: Remember that Daphne "i wanna fight a fucking ghost" post on tumblr back in 2016? Yeah I wrote that. And I wrote ficlets for that too! And now that tumblr's a dumpster fire, I'm posting them here! So have my weird Mystery Inc/Breakfast Club hybrid!





	1. Introduction

Scooby Doo idea: Daphne Blake as the weird rich kid whose parents signed her up for a shit-ton of rich-kid extracurriculars like polo, fencing, and all of this other shit so they wouldn’t have to deal with her/bolster her college resume. She puts a lot of effort into actually being good at all these extra-curriculars bc she’s competing with all of her ~super successful and talented~ sisters for attention and ends up athletic as hell and socially stunted and like…really aggressive and competitive and never quite satisfied with anything she’s doing. The only other ‘High Society’ kid who can put up with her is Norville “Shaggy” Rogers —an anxious stoner with freaky strict parents whose only friend prior to Daphne was his equally anxious rescue dog—Daphne’s been beating up Shaggy’s bullies for years. Then there’s student council dweeb Fred Jones who’s always been groomed to be this ‘leader’ by his parents and is always pressured to go to these youth leadership things and stuff and yeah he’s pretty good at directing group projects, but really Fred’s kind of shy and more interested in engineering, forensics and  _maybe_ criminal justice and he’s been friends with this chick Velma Dinkley in engineering club who’s  _brilliant_  but she’s also tactless, awkward and very bitterly sarcastic to cover up for the fact that her book smarts far outweigh her social skills.

 So then there’s this mystery downtown and all five of them show up and there’s a mutual, “Oh hey it’s you: The weird kid from my school. What are you doing here?” and everyone goes around. Fred’s like, “Oh I knew the owners of this place and they said they might have to close down because of this ghost and I told Velma about it and Velma thinks we can get to the bottom of this.” And Shaggy’s like, “Scoob and I didn’t want to be home right now and we honestly didn’t know about the ghost but hey Daphne’s here so we feel safe enough to hang out and maybe Scoob can sniff out some clues or something.” And then everyone turns and looks at Daphne and Daphne’s just like, “ _I want to fight a fucking ghost._ ” 

The first mystery was really fun but also kind of emotionally exhausting and at the end of it, the gang just sort of had this quiet moment where they were all standing near Fred’s van and watching this bitter asshole being put into a cop car and they’re wondering ‘what do you even charge someone who dressed up as a ghost to try and shut down a movie theater with?’ and then Fred offered to give them all rides home. So when they’re driving home it’s all quiet and awkward like all of these kids have spent so much time alone (not Shaggy so much because he’s always with Scooby but still they are not accustomed to having a friend  _group_ ) and it’s sort of like this, “Are we friends? What just happened? Like this was one of the weirdest nights of my life and I am so tired but I want to do this again?” So they reach Daphne’s house and Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby all get out together (“Like there is no way I’m going to try and go home at 3 AM” says Shaggy, “I’ll just tell them the Blakes let me stay over.”)  
Fred leans out the window as Shaggy, Daphne, and Scooby are about to head up to her door and he goes, ‘Hey, so uh…Velma and I have a study group on tuesdays if you guys want to hang out.”

  
Daphne’s just like, “I have fencing on tuesdays until 6. I’m free after though.” Everyone adds each other on Facebook and that’s how it starts.   
They seriously think the mystery solving is a one-time thing, like literally who the fuck dresses up like a ghost or a monster to commit larceny or fraud or lower property values? But then the whole thing makes the news and at first it’s a puff piece: plucky local teens save beloved local movie theater—but then Velma starts getting messages on her blog from people who are having issues with freaky supernatural stuff and aren’t being taken seriously by local authorities, people who need something investigated and don’t have the money for a private investigator, people who can’t bring the cops into it because the cops only make things worse. And she goes to Fred like, “Should I tell them to stop?” Fred looks really nervous and Velma’s like, “Uh, Fred?”

  
Fred just blurts out, “I’ve been getting those messages too and I’ve already said yes to six of them.”

  
Velma, justifiably, goes, “Are you  _nuts_? The two of us can’t solve that many mysteries!”

  
“Well it wouldn’t be just  _us_ ,” says Fred.

  
They Facebook Shaggy and Daphne and next thing you know it’s the four of them and Scooby all crammed into Fred’s van again. They check out a haunted warehouse at the docks. Fred finds crates with half of their shipments missing. Velma looks at dubious shipping manifests. Shaggy finds an empty crate that was meant to be shipped to a local theme park. Scooby sniffs out phenyl oxalate and hydrogen peroxide. Daphne sword-fights a pirate ghost because it’s Tuesday. They solve another one. Another puff-piece: Local Teens Foil Smuggling Operation. More emails.

  
Mystery solving starts taking up entire weekends. Velma sets up a group blog and Facebook page so that they can keep track of their clients better and have a record of solved cases. They don’t demand compensation or anything but the people they work with have ways of showing thanks. Reward for their services changes from mystery to mystery. They have been rewarded with gas money for the van, a night’s stay at a now-ghost-free bed and breakfast, pizza, weed, a six-pack of beer, homemade moonshine, dog treats, concert tickets, vinyl records, hand-knit sweaters, all of which are nice bonuses but really they just have a good time what they’re doing. They do weird shit. They do good work. 


	2. Fred Jones, Your Shit is Together

It’s the fourth mystery and the gang has split up to search for clues. Fred would usually go with Velma but they mixed it up this time and now he’s with Daphne. Fred has a flashlight. It’s weird to see since most people just use the flashlight on their phones. Daphne notices.  
“So uh…do you camp?” she says.  
“Well yeah when I was a boy scout, but not that much any more, no,” says Fred.  
They’re both quiet and then Daphne says, “Are we going to keep doing this?”  
“‘This?’ This what?”  
“The mystery thing.”  
“Do you want to stop?”  
Daphne half-laughs. “Fuck no. Do you?”  
Fred grins. “No, it’s fun,” his smile shrinks, “What’s up? Something bugging you?”   
Daphne tightens her ponytail and asks, “Why do you hang out with us?”  
“I like solving mysteries and I think you guys are cool,” Fred says.  
“You know what I mean.”  
“I do?”  
Daphne gives a small huff and says, “Fred Jones, your shit is  _together._  You’re a golden boy.”  
“I wouldn’t go that far.”  
“Whatever. I’m saying you could have way cooler friends than us, and you know it.”  
“Not possible.”  
“Why not?”  
“You guys are already the coolest friends I have.”  
Daphne half-laughs and half-scoffs and gently punches him in the arm and she rides that out for a few beats and then her face drops again. “Seriously,” she says, “Why?”  
Fred knows she’s actually concerned. This is something that is bugging her. He sighs. “Promise you won’t laugh?”  
“Can’t promise that, Freddy,” she says.   
“I don’t want to freak you out.”  
“We’re hunting a fucking ghost. I”m not worried about freak-outs.”  
Fred readjusts his grip on the flashlight. “Okay so well…like, my parents have been pushing me to leadership shit for like… a long time, okay? And I do it. I’m a boy scout. I’m student council. Team captain in whatever sport I go out for. Whatever. Yeah. Great,” there’s an edge of bitterness in his voice and he rubs the back of his neck, “I’ve been doing this leadership shit my whole life but hanging with you guys? It’s the first time I’ve felt like anyone is actually  _listening_  to me.”  
They’ve reached a point in the hall where there’s enough natural light for them to make out each other’s face. Daphne’s cocky smile is gone and there’s this look on her face. It’s recognition but it’s not a happy recognition. It’s an “ _Oh_ , you’re fucked up  _too_ ,” recognition. And she catches herself, remembers how much vulnerability comes with that recognition, that empathy. The cocky smile comes back but it doesn’t quite match the rest of her face. She forces a short laugh, and she quickly gives him another soft punch in the arm, going, “Pfft. Nerd.” He forces a laugh too. They walk the rest of the length of the hallway and  _“I fucked that up”_ becomes a mantra in Daphne’s head.  
They solve the mystery. Velma and Shaggy are still explaining things to the cops and Fred’s waiting by the van. Daphne walks up and says “Hey, can I see your phone?” Fred hands it over. She opens up his contacts and starts putting in her number, saying, “Facebook loads shitty on my phone sometimes. If we get another mystery, you can text me.” There’s a beat. “Or if people are being shitty and you need to talk.” she hands the phone back, “Or if you need me to beat someone up,” she says, punching her palm.  
“All right, Daph, I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. His thumbs briefly tap something out on his phone. Daphne’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out. He sent her a text. It says ‘ _Nerd_.’


	3. In Which The Miner 49er is actually pretty swole

_“I’m fine.”_

“He threw you through a wall!”

“It was drywall!  _Old_  drywall! Jeepers, Shaggy, I’m fine!” 

“No, Daph, you’re not fine. I heard the crack. Like, we need to get you to a hospital.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “I’ve broken ribs before–there’s not a whole lot you can do for them–Look I can still catch him, just let me—”

“No.” Shaggy tried blocking the hallway, but his frame was lanky and he wasn’t as fast—she would have been easily able to shove and dip past him but even bending slightly hurt a lot more than she would like to admit, and then there was Scooby padding around anxiously behind him and god she hated that look that the dog gave her. She stood up straight. “Get out of my way.”

“Let Velma and Fred handle this–” Shaggy was starting to say.

“What–with a fucking  _trap_?”

 “I mean…like, it could work this time!”

“Hrrrn,” Scooby made a concerned noise and pressed the side of his head against Shaggy’s hip. 

Daphne folded her arms but even folding her arms against herself made her wince. She put her hands on her hips. “Shaggy, get out of my way. I’m going to kick that miner’s ass back to 1849.” 

“Like, just because you don’t give a shit what happens to you, that doesn’t, like, that doesn’t mean that no one else does!” 

Scooby whined and padded over to Daphne. The big mutt leaned against her legs and ‘Hrrn’d’ again and Daphne groaned and scratched Scooby behind the ears. She grunted. “Ugh. Fine.” She dusted the bits of drywall off of her as much as she could without brushing up too hard against the point on her ribs where she knew where the breaks were and turned and headed down the hall toward the museum foyer. Shaggy and Scooby followed quickly after her.

“Daph?”

“What?”

“Thanks.” 

She punched Shaggy in the arm gently then winced herself. “Yeah well…you too. Thanks for…giving a shit, I guess.”

“Like, someone has to.” 


	4. Party Invite

“What kind of party again?” said Velma, glancing up from her laptop.

Fred glanced at the invite again. “It’s the Colesville Country Club Gala so…”

“Uggghhhhhh,” Velma tilted her head back from her laptop against the armrest of Fred’s beat up basement couch. 

“Velm, it’s not that bad,” said Shaggy, fiddling with little takeout box of chow mein, “Daph and my parents would drag us to that thing every year. It’s like…hoity toity but the food’s good.”

“Plus I always steal the extra party favors after,” said Daphne, “Last year I was able to steal like… 11 of those little prosecco bottles.”

“It’s black tie,” said Velma glancing up from her laptop, “You were in a dress–where would you even  _hide_  them?”

“Oooohh…that is the  _real_  mystery, Velma Dinkley,” Daphne said, wiggling her fingers mystically in Velma’s direction.

“Ugh,” Velma said again, “Okay so let’s state the case: the two primary motivations for going to a stuck up fancy party are…food and larceny.”

“Petty larceny,” said Daphne.

Fred ran his thumb over the fancy golden seal at the bottom of the invitation. “I mean… they also gave us the invite for the Black Chuck–”

“Black Shuck,” said Velma.

“Black Shuck case at the golf course,” he looked at them, “It meant a lot to them and it would be weird not to go.”

“Weird is what we do,” said Velma, turning her attention back to her laptop.

“Aw, come on, Velm!” said Daphne, “This could be the first time Shaggy and I go to that stupid gala with people we actually like!”

“Like, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” said Shaggy.

“The food’s good?” said Velma.

“Really good,” said Shaggy.

“I can do all the talking,” said Fred.

“You’re going?” Velma glanced over at him.

“Velma this may be the only time in my life I’ll be able to go–I mean…yeah.”

Velma felt a sudden weight in her lap and lifted up her laptop to see Scooby had put his head there. “Not you too…” she said, scratching the dog behind the ears. She glanced up at the rest of the group and then sighed. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go.”

“All right, Dinkley!” said Daphne, “Need help finding a dress?”

Velma sighed and then started typing into her laptop. “Maybe a suit…”


	5. Swanky Digs

In the end there wasn’t time to thrift around for a suit, so Velma was stuck in her junior prom dress. The valet at the country club had to spend 5 minutes convincing Fred that the van would be fine, and nothing would happen to it and no, Fred couldn’t park it himself. They spent another three minutes in the parking lot with Fred anxiously watching the valet park the van. Daphne waved at them eagerly before her parents dragged her off to stand with her sisters and greet other family friends. Everyone just kept trying to talk to her. Everyone kept asking who her parents were, what her parents did. Fred could only play ambassador so much. They got separated in a matter of minutes and then Velma was like a pinball, bouncing from one uncomfortable encounter with a much-richer-than-her stranger to another. After the sixth person called her dress ‘darling’ with an obvious fake smile, Velma quickly began to understand why Daphne wanted to punch things all the time.

Velma broke away from one group only to get a plate of hors d’oeuvres shoved in her face.

“Prosciutto wrapped asparagus?” a waiter said.

“Uh…k-kosher,” Velma said, backing up until she bumped up against a table of hors d’oeuvres. She grabbed one of the little crystal chalices of water and gulped it down. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t be here.

“Yeah the first few minutes are like, really overwhelming,” she heard a familiar voice then turned in the direction of it. 

“Sha–” She started to say but then blurted out, “ _Jinkies_ what happened to your hair?”

“Oh—” Shaggy ran a hand through his borderline military looking buzzcut, “My parents like always make me get a haircut before these things.”

“I had no idea your head was that small,” the words fell out of Velma and then she slapped a hand over her mouth and Shaggy snorted.

“Yeah like, it freaks me out every time, too,” he said, taking the toothpicks out of cheese cubes on a plate then quietly opening the nearby window and holding the plate out into the night air.

“What are you–” Velma started to say but then a large brown muzzle caught the light and practically inhaled all the cheese cubes on the plate before disappearing back into the darkness, “Oh… Scooby,” she said as Shaggy brought the plate back in and closed the window. 

“Never go anywhere without him,” said Shaggy, bringing the plate back in then grabbing several canapes and eating them like popcorn. There was a long pause of silence between them as they looked out at the rest of the party. It wasn’t a gala–they called it a gala but it wasn’t a gala. It was a room full of people desperately trying to convince themselves and everyone else that they were important and that they deserved everything they had.

 Velma and Fred were only impostors. Fred was a much better impostor than she was but they weren’t born with money. The only reason they were here was because they proved that stupid big black dog on the golf greens was just another stupid guy in a costume and the owners of the stupid fancy country club ‘graciously’ bestowed the right to be here on them—but they didn’t belong here, not really. Not even Daphne or Shaggy who were born into this sphere of rich assholes. They weren’t fancy. They were meddling kids. Velma glanced over at the row of wine glasses then shuffled over and filled one with white wine and gulped it down.

“You okay?” Shaggy glanced over at her, “Do you need to take a walk outside?”

“Yeah,” said Velma, “Yeah that would be great.”

Shaggy piled a plate up with cold cuts and nodded toward a nearby exit and she followed him. They headed outside and Scooby instantly greeted them and Shaggy would give Scooby a cold cut and then eat one himself as they walked over to the country club’s pool, which was lit up all aquamarine and had a steam rising off of it.

“I think I get it now,” said Velma as they sat down on the chaise lounges next to the pool.

“Get what?” said Shaggy, four slices of salami in his mouth.

Velma ran a hand through her hair, “Why you and Daphne are… the way you are. You’re stuck around people like… _that_  all the time.” Shaggy looked awkwardly over to Scooby and Velma suddenly caught herself, “That was rude, wasn’t it?” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead, “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry.”

“No–no, like, I understand,” said Shaggy. He rubbed Scooby’s head and Scooby pressed his face up against Shaggy’s chest.

“I’m bad at this,” said Velma.

“I think we’re all bad at this,” said Shaggy, “We’re just… bad at it in different ways…” Scooby made a ‘hrrn’ noise and pressed his face into Shaggy’s lap, “But together we’re good at…something.”

“Mysteries,” said Velma. They both laughed briefly.

“We need to get back or my parents will like, lose their shit at me,” said Shaggy, standing up.

“Wait uh—look don’t think I”m stupid for asking this,” said Velma.

“Like…you haven’t asked anything yet,” said Shaggy.

Velma huffed and gestured downward. “The dress… is it bad?”

“Uhhh…like…no?”

“People keep saying it’s ‘Darling’ like I don’t know they’re talking down to me but I  _know,_ ” Velma said, her hands balling up rolls of apricot-colored silk in fists as she gripped the skirt, “I shouldn’t let it bother me but it does.”

“You look fine,” Shaggy said, “I mean… you look like an angry peach when you’re all angry and hunched over like that but like… it works for you, you know? Like, you look like Velma.” 

“Well if I look like an angry peach, you look like a strategically shaved monkey,” said Velma, folding her arms. She paused, “But… it works for you too.” 

“Fair enough,” said Shaggy, brushing a hand over his buzzcut, “Ready to get back?”

“Yeah,” said Velma, “Yeah I’m ready.”


	6. Mystery Machine: Origins

Rosie was tugging on her work gloves. “Okay so just so you know, if you don’t like it we can strip all the custom paint off and start over—”

“You don’t have to do that, Ro,” said Fred, “Seriously, it’s enough that you’re even giving us the paint job—”

“It’s the least we can do!” Rosie insisted, “Without you guys here, they would have shut down the track. And you love that van, Fred—I couldn’t let you drive it of all scuffed up like that.”

“Haha yeah well..” Fred rubbed the back of his head, “You know how ghost racers are.” He motioned at the tarp-draped van in front of them, “It’s fine. I’m sure it’s going to be great.” Rosie scanned across the group. Daphne was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet a bit and as soon as Rosie made eye contact with her Daphne flashed her two thumbs up, prompting Shaggy, who was currently working through a large bag of jalapeño kettle chips, to fish his hand out of the bag and give a thumbs-up as well. Velma was on her phone hastily updating the group’s blog until Scooby pressed his head against her side, she looked at Shaggy and Daphne, then at Rosie, gauged the situation, and also gave a thumbs up. 

“Okay,” Rosie breathed in deep and pulled the tarp away from the van. The gang’s jaws collectively dropped. They stared at the van in stunned silence. The van had originally been green with a wavy ribbon of blue and orange on its side, but all that paint had been scratched away by their scuffle with the ghost racer and now Rosie had buffed out the dents and re-painted.  _Really_  re-painted. Bright green with a psychadelic, borderline fractal sky blue framing it with enormous orange flowers and to top it all off, the words ‘Mystery Machine’ in equally bright orange taking up a huge portion of the side of the van.

“Like… wow…” said Shaggy.

“Jinkies,” Velma said, adjusting her glasses.

“Oh god, it’s bad isn’t it?” Rosie said, looking between the van and them, “I got carried away, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Fred—I knew the colors came out too bright—I just—I can re-do it–”

“Ro, no,” said Fred walking up to the fan and putting a hand over the lettering, “It’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” Rosie repeated, looking over her shoulder at the van.

“Yeah,” said Daphne, “It’s groovy.”

“Groovy…” Rosie repeated the word after her.

“Thank you,” Fred said, looking back at her, then back at the van, “Mystery Machine, huh?” 


	7. 5 Ages of Cheddar

“…and, like,” Shaggy awkwardly closed the oven door with his foot and set the tray on top of the stove then gestured at it, “Voila.”

Daphne clapped, “It’s beautiful!” she paused and examined it further, “And…cheesy.”

“Like, it’s a cheddar interpretation of Massimo Bottura’s ‘Five Ages of Parmegiano-Reggiano’ using sharp, mild, smoked, white, and jalapeno cheddar.” Scooby pushed his head through the gap between Shaggy’s arm and his ribcage, sniffing at the dish. “No, Scoob, Jalapeno—capsacin, remember, buddy?” Scooby whined and pulled away and Shaggy opened a bit of tupperware and tossed Scooby a scooby snack.

“Nice!” said Daphne, “And…it’s kosher?”

“Oh, totally. I just used bacon fat to boost the umami of the—” he cut himself off and then frowned at his complicated composition of cheese, “Dammit…”

“It’s okay! I mean, Fred could still eat it!” said Daphne, grabbing a tortilla chip and scraping away a bit of cheese. 

“That’s not the point! If we can’t all eat it then…” Shaggy trailed off then grabbed a handful of tortilla chips and sullenly started picking away at the tall sculpture of cheddar himself.

“Look, it’s not like you’re going to cook something that’s going to magically make Velma warm up to you. I mean Fred said Velma’s…not super into people. It’s not you, it’s not bad… It’s just… Velma,” Daphne’s mouth was full of cheese and chips for the other half of the statement, “Iff noffing perfonal.” She swallowed. “Shit, the bacon fat  _makes it,_ though.”

“Like, right?!” said Shaggy, “I know that… I just… feel like it woudn’t hurt, you know?”

“You’re scared everyone secretly hates you again, huh?” said Daphne.

Shaggy reddened then glanced downward, “Like…a little,” he did a hand-wavey motion next to his head, “You know…” 

“Yeah,” said Daphne, before pushing off the counter, “Well, we don’t.”

“Thanks,” said Shaggy.

 Daphne glanced back at the delicately composed cheddar pile, “We’ll finish this and then we’ll go back to your… recipe drawing board, yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Shaggy. 


	8. Jeepers Creepers

“This is literally the worst stakeout vehicle we could possibly be in,” said Velma, not even looking up from her laptop. 

The mystery machine sat with a tarp thrown over it in an alley, facing toward the back of the bank.

“It’s a van,” said Fred, “Vans come in and out of here all the time.”

“Yeah, armored ones, not neon green ones.”

“That’s what the tarp is for,” said Fred, “And it’s apple green.” 

Velma rolled her eyes and continued hammering away at her keyboard. Shaggy sat across from Velma in the back, Scooby resting his head in his lap as Shaggy half-slept propped against the back of Daphne’s seat. Daphne herself was trying to keep watch with Fred, but kept absentmindedly pulling her phone out and fiddling through her apps and games on it before remembering why they were here and putting it away again. Another hour passed before Fred leaned back in his seat, yawned, and rubbed his forehead. “I dunno. Maybe he’s not coming tonight.”

“No, it has to be tonight,” said Velma, rubbing her eyes which were now exhausted by her laptop screen, “The,” she yawned, “The security feeds should cut out any second, and then we should see the ghoul creeping around.”

“Velm, you should take a rest,” said Fred, “I’ll just keep the police scanner on in case the silent alarm goes off–”

“No,” said Velma, “No, I’m fine.”

“Turning it on anyway,” said Fred, clicking the scanner on at the front of the van. Velma sighed and set her laptop down to her side, still open with the security camera feeds of the bank playing on the screen and the soft crackling voices on the police scanner playing through the quiet Mystery Machine. She rested her eyes for a few minutes until suddenly the police scanner began crackling loudly.

“Shit, turn it off!” hissed Daphne, sitting up in her seat. Fred moved to power down the scanner but then it started playing music. It was a jaunty, jazzy, hokey tune. 

_Jeepers creepers, where’d you get them peepers? Jeepers creepers, where’d you get them eyes?_

Shaggy woke with a start, “Whuzz goin’ on…?” he rubbed his eyes, “Like… who’s playing Fallout?”

“Shh!” said Velma as the song played off and she typed a few things into her laptop.

“Why are we whispering?” said Shaggy, but the song went on.

_Oh those weepers, how they hypnotize…_ the song started distorting into a roar of static again.

Scooby whined. “Okay, like, that’s not horrifying at all,” said Shaggy. _  
_

“There! There he is!” Daphne pointed to a window on the upper floor of the bank where a shape suddenly moved. “The Creeper…” she whispered dramatically.

“We are not calling that thing ‘The Creeper,’” said Velma.

“Okay, but he literally played his theme song for us,” said Daphne.

“That’s not his themesong. Last time the bank got robbed, the scanner started playing ‘Here comes the Boogeyman’ so—’” Velma’s eyes widened, then flicked down to her laptop and her face dropped, “Shit,” she clapped her laptop shut and stuffed it in her bag.

“What?” said Fred as Velma opened the back doors of the Mystery Machine and leapt out.

“The song’s a smokescreen. The security camera feeds just cut out. We need to go,” said Velma. 

Daphne and Fred didn’t need any convincing. They got out of the Mystery Machine without a word and followed Velma to the bank.

“Yeah, like, let’s just go  _toward_  the creepy old-timey murder music,” said Shaggy as the van doors slammed. He sat in the dark of the Mystery Machine for a few seconds before sighing and getting to his feet, “Come on, Scoob,” he said, getting out of the van and the dog following close behind.


	9. Mystery Withdrawal

_Army of Darkness_  played on the TV. It was the standby when they couldn’t decide what to watch and at this point the movie was almost white noise to them save for a few scenes.

“Anything fun happen in South Carolina?”

“Nah, just, like…the usual cicadas, heat, mosquitos, and racists,” said Shaggy, “Oh! I, like, got you guys some stuff.” He moved over to one end of the couch and grabbed his backpack and then dug through it. He pulled out an enormous bright orange T-shirt and set it aside, “Sorry, that one’s for Velma,” he said continuing to dig through the bag. Daphne unfolded the tee to see it had a large illustration of a lizard man, and the large words “Lizard Man” above the illustration and “Bishopville, South Carolina” in a smaller font at the bottom. It was obviously entirely too big for Velma.

“She’ll love it,” said Daphne.

“Fred,” said Shaggy, taking out a whole bunch of postcards and polaroids in a plastic baggie and setting it aside. Fred had taken to taping up pictures and postcards to the interior of the Mystery Machine, and Daphne picked up the baggy to thumb through it. There was a polaroid of an old man standing in front of what looked like a UFO made of junk, several different “Lizardman” postcards, a picture of what looked like a giant peach (or a butt?), and various other photos of different unusual billboards and roadside attractions. 

“Oh! This one’s for you!” he said, taking out a horseshoe and handing it to her, “Lucky. Found it on the mansion’s property. Uncle Bo said it dated back to…like, 1845? But like… don’t put it near your computer or phone or anything. It got magnetized somehow. Still don’t know how.”

“Did you spend all your time in SC just…driving around to find weird shit?” said Daphne, glancing back at the photos.

“Psh, no,” said Shaggy, “I mean…like…kind of. Auntie Nan doesn’t like Scooby hanging around Rogers Hall. Says he sheds on everything.” Scooby lifted his head at Shaggy mentioning his name and Shaggy leaned forward and scratched him behind the ears, “I think… I think I was going into mystery withdrawal or something. You guys solve any mysteries without me?”

“We checked out a few places but…it’s not the same without you two,” said Daphne, looking between Shaggy and Scooby.

“What, you mean there’s a lot less…like…panicking and incompetence?” said Shaggy.

“What?” Daphne seemed alarmed, “Shaggy what are you talking about? Where’s this coming from?”

Shaggy paled a little bit then laughed awkwardly and forcedly, “Sorry, that was a joke. Bad joke. Forget I said that.”

“Shaggy,” said Daphne.

Shaggy folded his arms and leaned back against the couch, almost as if he was trying to sink into the cushions. “Fred, like, knows where to send people and where to look for clues, Velma puts all the pieces together, and like, you kick ass. Me and Scooby just…” he trailed off. 

“Look after us. Keep us together,” said Daphne, “Velma doesn’t even look up from her laptop when you’re not there. She barely talks. And Fred–Fred’s like a completely different person. It’s like he’s lost or something, he can’t seem to decide on anything and me– Fuck, Shaggy, I’m an angry mess who wrecks everything if I don’t have you and Scoob near.”

Shaggy brought his legs up onto the couch and hugged his knees a little. “Like, it’s okay. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” he said.

“Fucking jeepers, Shaggy! You’re my best friend! You think I’d pull that shit!?” Daphne snapped.

Shaggy shrank a little where he sat. “I’m sorry–” he started to say.

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” said Daphne.

“Sorr–” Shaggy caught himself then sighed, “I know I’m annoying.”

“You’re not annoying,” said Daphne.

“You’re mad,” said Shaggy.

“Yeah but not at you. I’m mad at me. I’m mad that I don’t know how to convince you that…” she gestured, “That you’re important to us. We’re not Mystery Inc without you and Scoob. We’re just  _not._ ”

Both were quiet as the words sunk in. The movie kept playing in the background, though both of them were only half-paying attention to it. It was a while before Shaggy spoke up again, “Mystery Inc?”

“That’s what Velma titled the blog,” said Daphne.

“Huh…” said Shaggy, “Like… that’s a pretty cool name.”


	10. Gals and Flowers

“Aw, you shouldn’t have!” said Daphne. It was a humble little bouquet of ranunculi, peonies, and gardenia.

“I know,” said Velma, her eyes red and watering, “Please take them, before I–I– _ACHOO!_ ” she sneezed hard.

“Aw, you sneeze cute!” said Daphne.

“Aw thanks, I sneeze cute. Kind of want to die, but at least I sneeze cute,” said Velma, wiping her nose, “Can you–”

“Oh! Right! Right!” said Daphne, rushing the bouquet away from Velma and bringing it into the kitchen. Velma sighed and walked into the house after her, watching as Daphne snipped off the bottom stems of the bouquet with kitchen shears before putting them in a vase. Velma thought having the bouquet would give her some relief, but as soon as she stepped into Daphne’s house, she was sneezing even harder than before. As soon as the first fit of sneezing left her she blinked her watering eyes and looked around Daphne’s house.

“Jinkies,” she said, walking past several large heart-shaped boxes of chocolate, several bouquets of roses, tulips, and lilies, (as well as several stock red-rose and baby’s breath bouquets), and an enormous heart-shaped wreath of flowers, “Did a Hallmark throw up in here or something?”

“Nah, well the big arrangement’s from my dad to my mom, five of the bouquets are for my sisters from their boyfriends and girlfriends and fiancees, and we kind of stopped keeping track of who sends what chocolates,” said Daphne, “A lot of its also like, dumb business stuff for my parents.”

“That sounds annoying,” said Velma.

“Oh it’s the worst,” said Daphne, arranging Velma’s flowers in a vase.

“If I’d have known I wouldn’t have thrown another one on you,” said Velma, picking up a box of chocolates.

“What? Are you kidding me!?” said Daphne holding up Velma’s flowers in their own small vase, “This one actually  _means_  something to me! It’s way cuter than all the other ones! You actually picked flowers I like! This one’s going in my room!”

“Oh– _Oh_ ,” said Velma, straightening up and reddening, “Gee, Daph, I didn’t think it would–well…” Velma suddenly sneezed again into cupped hands, “Aw, jinkies, gross…” she said, looking at her phlegmmy fingers.

“Hey, you know what would make you feel better?” said Daphne, coming over and grabbing Velma’s wrists and wiping Velma’s hands down with a paper towel. 

“Benadryl,” said Velma, taking the paper towel from Daphne and wiping off her own hands.

“A mystery!” Daphne exclaimed, then caught herself, “Yeah–also benadryl, yeah we should get you some.”

“You have one in mind?” said Velma.

“The Burning Man, AKA Charcoal Charlie, AKA BBQ-ltergeist,” said Daphne, pulling her phone out of her pocket, “The guy at the abandoned–”

“At the abandoned oil refinery, yeah, I’ve read about him,” said Velma as they headed to Daphne’s garage.

“Yeah Fred’s already got the van warmed up! We’re meeting him and Shaggy and Scoob there!”

“How did you know I wanted to spend my Valentine’s day at an abandoned oil refinery?” said Velma.

Daphne walked next to her purple vespa and pulled on a green helmet, then held out an orange helmet for Velma. “Because you’re weird,” said Daphne.

Velma grinned and Daphne tossed her the helmet before getting astride her vespa. She hit the button to open the garage door and Velma positioned herself on the vespa behind Daphne and wrapped her arms around her waist. Daphne revved the engine and they took off.


End file.
